


Double Dutch

by SiryyGray



Series: A Hop, Skip, and a Jump [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, La Bohème References, No Romance, Omake, Original Character(s), Platonic Relationships, Survival, Team as Family, WWII references, as a treat, because of course what did you expect, wartime living conditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:47:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26805331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiryyGray/pseuds/SiryyGray
Summary: He managed to build himself a family in the worst of places, cobbled together and torn to shreds. Some moments were kind, some were cruel. On occasion, it was both at once.OrDeleted scenes from Capra involving Edward’s life in Rostock.
Relationships: Edward Elric & Noah
Series: A Hop, Skip, and a Jump [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1865245
Comments: 23
Kudos: 80





	Double Dutch

**Author's Note:**

> CW: Wartime living conditions. Allusions to bombings and violence. Threats and blackmail.

_Oh, please sir, tell me, do you know the tavern?_

Edward blinked. “Run that by me again?”

Mr. Carcido toyed mindlessly with his cargo. “I’d like to know if you want to—“

“No, I got that part.” The blond interrupted, his eyebrows starting to climb upwards in confusion. “But why can’t you just take it with you?”

The man sighed. “There’s a good chance it’ll get ruined in the luggage car, and it’s _old_... I would’ve needed a new one anyways.”

He paused to give Edward a hopeful look. “D’ya want it?”

“Uh, yeah. Yes.”

There’d be no harm from that, right? He couldn’t think of anything trouble lest it was leaping from an adventure novel.

Mr. Carcido smiled at him and handed Edward the case. It was lighter than he expected, rattling in the exchange.

“Don’t break it!” The man called as he backed away. Edward rolled his eyes like an omelette in a pan and huffed.

“Ye of little faith...”

* * *

“It’s left handed.”

Noah tilted her head, chin resting on her palms. “Can you still use it?”

He nodded. “It actually might be better. I won’t have to get any more callouses.”

* * *

Dev dragged Edward down the steps with the strength only held in his pinky. “It’ll be fun!” He assured, as if he would be giving Edward a choice anyways. “You’ve been working on that propeller fuel—“

“Propulsion fuel.” Ed corrected. Dev shook his head with a tireless smile.

“ _That_. It hurts just looking at you all bent over day and night.” They reached the main floor. Noah trailed behind with Percy resting on her shoulders, diligently trying to figure out how to braid her hair whilst not falling flat on his face.

His balance was wavering, but Noah managed to keep him from losing a tooth via intimate-stair-acquaintanceship. If a tightrope walker could see, they’d be rolling out a red carpet for her with praise on their lips.

“He’s right, Ed. You’re practically a hermit.” She said lightly, in an act of absolute betrayal. Dev kept an arm looped through Edward’s, almost skipping down the front steps and into the street, adorned with the honey-glow of dusk.

“Hey! I took Percy down to the air show, didn’t I?” He protested. From the corner of his eye, Edward saw Dev holding a battered case, swinging it causally with his steps and he had half a mind to snap at the older man to be more _careful_.

“That was two weeks ago.” Noah reminded him Edward sighed and resigned himself to being hauled down the road, stubbornness never letting up. They marched down the old walkway like a band of merry fools, two sets of lips happily using Edward as target practice for their loving jabs and teases. He grabbed each projectile and fired back in turn. It was their _act_.

“They just want you to hear you play.” Percy told him with his head cocked to the side. He was the poster boy for puppy eyes and Edward’s remaining resolve was snatched up and tossed into a nearby sewer drain. He grumbled and shot a glare to Dev, who was smirking like a fiend.

He sighed. “You all suck.”

At least the pub was only a few blocks away. It flooded the rapidly dimming street with ringlets of light, screaming with laugher and gossip.

He couldn’t deny that it was infectious.

Dev dropped Edward into a seat and started shoving tables aside to a chorus of gleeful, half drunk cheers. Edward shook his head and let Percy jump up onto his knee. Noah chattered politely with the patrons and took them by the arm, leading them to the open space and pointing to their feet. It was the same expression she wore on weekends when she managed to convince (on occasion blackmail) Edward into a square-step, but just a bit brighter.

A staff member wandered over to Edward as he fiddled with the pegs and Percy seemed to forget the blond wasn’t, in fact, a jungle gym and was hanging from his shoulders.

“Aye, what’ve you got there?”

He glanced up to find a pair of curious eyes framed by crows feet. Edward felt an involuntary smile tug at his lips. Maybe a little bit of smugness found it’s way into his tone “Mandolin.”

The man nodded thoughtfully. “Well can you play?”

“I can.”

He hummed. “Good. We’ve been needing some music ‘round here.”

Edward saluted him and exchanged a look with Noah. She’d grabbed every willing participant and positioned them like pieces of chess on a board.

He spewed _The Sailors Hornpipe_ over the pub and watch people spin, tangling into knots so dense it would take tweezers and a magnifying glass to sort it out. Noah led the charge, battle ready and beaming with Dev close behind.

A fiddler appeared out of nowhere and strung out notes so rapid and warm it made the night feel lighter than the day. She smiled at him, relishing each note and caught Noah’s eye just enough times to serve as teasing material later. He took note of the blushing and saved it for a rainy day. An old man padded over and sat crosslegged on the floor, chanter in hand.

“What happened to the rest of it?” Edward asked over the noise.

“Nothing,” He gave a toothy smile, “I just didn’t want to blow the walls down.”

Edward scoffed. “Fair point. How do you feel about Sweeney’s Buttermilk?”

They took off soaring and somehow he managed to keep his head screwed on and mindlessly played well into the night, gracelessly leaping from improvisation to old tunes, blended seamlessly with the sounds of swaying footsteps.

So yeah, _maybe_ he’d spent some free time working through chords and pilfering music books from a second hand shop.

He watched from the benches as a the massive group skipped and bustled. They ran from side-steps into a _Circassian Circle_ that doubled and tripled in sized until the floor shook and the space was too small.Percy looked like he was having to time of his life, giggling and hanging onto people’s hands, being practically tossed in loops.

Dev sauntered over to kick Edward out of his seat and take up vigil cause _apparently_ he’d picked up a few songs here and there. “Go put those left feet to use, Goldie.”

“You,” Edward started, “are the worst.”

“Don’t I know it.”

Noah dove for his hand, snatching his wrist and dragging him into an eightsome reel and _fucking hell_ did it make him dizzy. It also made him laugh like an idiot and grin.

* * *

_I'll stay here, I must complete my article._

The sound of a card being punched was so damn euphonic is always made Edward sigh in relief.

Once again he’d spent eight hours in blistering heat and his fingers had gone numb from the manic, perfectionistic tightening of bolts and re-measuring metal sheets. His clothes were throughly soaked through with sweat and grime, but at least he least he was done for the day.

At least no one with a badge sewn to their collar had barged in and pulled the lower skilled workers outside.

At least there were no guns.

Edward shrugged on his jacket, threw his locker shut and made for the hallway lined with office doors and supply rooms.Even through the walls, built of rebar, concrete and metal, he could hear the vicious groans of labour. The crying of machines and heavy pang that resounded from every hammer strike.

A few others were getting off their shifts alongside him, nudging each other in the ribs and casting a few conflicted, sidelong glances to Edward. They were friendly enough most days, often including Edward in lunch breaks and making conversation in between welding, but for the past week, they’d become a bit wary.

Ever since he’d stuck around a little too long and overheard a conversation that started and ended with weapons. Instead, his co-works had started giving him understanding, resolute nods and arrived a little later each day.He was halfway down the corridor to the exit when a voice broke through the humble buzzing of smalltalk.

“Mr. Elric?”

Edward halted, turning to see a middle aged man with a crisp suit and combed back hair. He stood in a doorway, on hand against the frame and his eyes low.

He kept his voice level. “Mr. Renner.”

The older man gestured. “Could I have a word with you?”

The other men of the factory took pause, shooting Edward nervous looks. A few shook their heads, urging him to deny the request, despite knowing just as well as he did that it wasn’t a question, but an order.

“Of course.”

The office space was exactly how the rest were. No photos, no desktop trinkets. Just papers upon papers and a cabinet full of documents pressed into the corner. The only difference was that this one in particular had the title of _supervisor_ stamped onto a plaque and balanced on the desk.

Mr. Renner let the door fall shut and Edward heard the distinct click of a lock sliding into place.

The rooms in the main floor don’t have carpets, he noted. It would make a cleanup far easier. Tiles could be scrubbed down or even painted over if they happened to be stained and the blaring of metal on metal was loud enough to drown a gunshot or a scream and either way it’s not like anyone would actually come to help lest they fancied a matching hole in the ground and _fuck they know what he saw—_

“I hope I’m not keeping you from anything.” Mr. Renner leaned back against his desk, looking Edward up and down like an auctioneer deciding on a starting price.

“Not at all.”

“Good, good.”

Edward swallowed, glancing around the space and taking stock. The door was bolted. The window was breakable, but lined with bars, crossed over each other in rather claustrophobic way. “Is something wrong?” Edward asked.

Mr. Renner gave him a careful warning look. “You’ve missed your deadline.”

“I—“

“Third week in a row.”

“But that’s—“ The blond started defensively.

“Don’t interrupt me!” He barked. Edward’s mouth snapped shut. The older man continued. “I will speak and you will listen, am I clear?”

He breathed in, careful to let his lungs fill as much as they could before letting it out slowly and then responded quietly. “Yes.”

Mr. Renner glared down at him, a twist in his lips and two fingers clicking against the wood of his desk. It was a normal sized office, but it certainly wasn’t built for two. Edward could see the cold flare in his eyes. “You’ve missed your deadline again. Why?”

“I just want to be sure everything is done correctly.”

It was a lie.

He was still quietly sabotaging every piece of metal and scrap paper he could. Redrawing lines a dozen times over so that he’d need to waste time getting fresh paper and draining inkwells of their contents. The walls tightened around him as Mr. Renner’s expression grew in severity. He was clinical and detached with every word.

“We’re not looking for perfection, we’re looking for efficiency.” The man told him sternly. “These need to be done on time and if they’re not it will be coming out of you and your peers paycheque.”

Edward recoiled for a split second before schooling both his voice and expression into something a little older. More familiar from when his boldness wasn’t locked in a cage and freedom was at the end of a silver chain.

“That would be needlessly endangering to—“

“What did I say about interrupting? You’re lucky I don’t slash your wages right now.” He growled. Edward could feel the truth in the words and decided that it wasn’t worth the risk.

“I...” He swallowed his pride for the millionth time that day. “I _apologize_. It won’t happen again.”

“Glad to hear it.” Mr. Renner suddenly dropped the overly strict demeanour, his voice slipping into a warm and casual drawl that sent a chill over the room. “Say, Mr. Elric, do you still live over on Kieler Street?”

“Yes,” He had to fight to keep from fidgeting. That would make him look guilty, wouldn’t it? Maybe he was overthinking but he’d rather be paranoid than reduced to a dark oily stain on the concrete and a missing persons poster.

“That’s quite the commute.” Mr. Renner pushed off his desk. Edward stayed perfectly still as the man circled him slowly, pretending to fix things that lay on the cabinet and rattling the chain on the door that felt vaguely like a threat.

“I suppose so.”

“I would hate for something to happen. I know that area to be a touch... rougher. Do you have any flatmates?”

“Yes.”

“How nice. I hope you get along with them.” He was standing directly behind Edward, voice hissing in his ear. The younger stayed perfectly still, his hands curled into fists. “Do you?”

“Yes.” He bit out.

“It’s a good thing the police are close by to you, wouldn’t you say? With it being a dangerous spot and all, I mean.”

“I don’t see what this has to do with work.” Edward said tersely. It wasn’t the smartest move, but he could hardly refrain from letting the frustration and unease slip out. Mr. Renner might as well have put a knife to his throat. That would’ve been less frightening, actually. Because at least then he wouldn’t be targeting Edward’s friends as well. They had nothing to do with this, so he tried to derail the conversation.

Mr. Renner waved like it was nothing, rounding to face Edward once again. He wore a strained little smile, one hand slicking back his hair while the other reached out to lightly brush against Edward's shoulder in a phoney, friendly gesture. The younger went rigid and held his breath.

“Just trying to understand your life a little. It seems you’ve carved out something pretty—“ His hand clasped onto Edward’s shoulder tightly. Painfully. “— _pleasant_.”

“It’s an average life.” He said in a careful, restrained voice. It took everything in him not to jerk away when his fingers began to dig into his flesh. Mr. Renner leered at him with a devastatingly cold look.

“Well, I certainly hope you can keep a hold on it.” His grip only grew more steadfast, bruising, and Edward winced internally. He kept his jaw squared and lifted his chin in defiance.

“Why are you telling me all this.” He asked.

Mr. Renner pulled Edward a step forward. He stumbled, catching himself by a hair and finding the older man was glaring down his nose and could tower over Edward. Shadows fell across his face.

“I’m telling you not to throw away what you have now, nothing more.”

He let go of Edward’s shoulder with a sudden smile. The blond took a step back towards the door, a feverish glance thrown over his shoulder just to be sure it hadn’t melted away. It was a ridiculous thought, but paranoia ate away at his mind like parasites in livestocks.

 _Livestock_.

“Now, Mr. Elric, do you think you’ll be able to start meeting quotas?”

“Yes.”

“Wonderful.” Mr. Renner clapped, making his way to the door and unlocking it. “You’re free to go. Be safe on your way home.”

Edward bowed his head. “Of course. Thank you.”

He hurried out of the building as fast as he could without breaking into a sprint. The doors swung shut behind him and Edward sagged against the wall. “It’s fine.” He whispered to himself. “You’re fine. They don’t know.”

* * *

_Come, buy my oranges!_

Luck had graciously slapped them upside the head today. That is to say, Dev went to the market the exact evening all the fish was about to be tossed for fear of going bad before it was sold, making it dirt cheap.

He busted as much change as he could and came back to the theatre was two armfuls of perch and smiling.

It would smell like saltwater in the kitchen for a week, but Edward couldn’t deny that fish fries were... _fun_.

Percy stood on a chair, his elbow leaning over the wooden counter to watch as Noah and Edward threw each other potatoes and peppers in a juggling act complete with knifes. She would skin them, while he divvied them up into slices. Dev was stationed at their little stove, coaxing the flame to stay high while throwing in whatever was sent his way into an oil-filled pan.

It reeked like the docks and Edward wasn’t even mad about it. They’d fallen into a rhythm.

“You’re going to cut your hand at that pace.” Noah warned him.

He scoffed. “No I won’t.”

“I’m only getting my foot in the door.” She told him sweetly. “So I can say I told you so later.”

He shook his head, shrugging a tear from his eye as he diced an onion into oblivion and offered the cutting board to Dev.

“Why, _thank you_.” The older man hummed.

Noah plucked Percy from his spot rocking back and forth on the chair.

“Can you go get—“

“—the table cloth. Yep!” The boy interrupted. He raced off to drag out a white covering and Noah shot the other two a look. “It’s like he can read minds.” She said with a huff.

“I see no problem with that.” Dev responded resolutely. “So long as he’s polite about it.”

They washed off the grime of vegetable skins and stepped around one another. Percy flung the tablecloth into place and ducked under Edward’s arm as he set down plates. Noah splayed out the sliver wear with pinpoint precision, each accompanied by a napkin and the little pint sized redhead dug out mugs from the little storage bin under the sink.

“Head’s up!” He called, pitching one to each of them. Dev caught his without turning away from the stove, swaying a little with a full sounding laugh. Edward jumped to snatch his from the air, while Noah caught hers with an underhand.

“Ice?” She asked.

“I’ll race you downstairs for it.” Percy piped up.

They took off, footsteps thundering down the attic steps and down to the main floor where there sat an icebox behind the theatre's humble bar. They’d gotten permission to use it, of course. Though it’s not as though many patrons were sipping rum and vodka whilst watching a cardboard version of Nortre Dame be ransacked by metaphorical monsters. _God_ , he was watching too many of these damn plays.

Noah was never going to let him hear the end of it.

Dev clicked his tongue lightly. “Hey, Goldie.”

“How many _times—_ “

“Could you do the toast? Hand’r full.” He lifted the pan, covered by half grilled vegetables and laden with fillets.

Edward huffed. “Yeah, yeah. Where’d you put the other groceries?”

Soon enough Noah was climbing the steps again, shouldering open the door to reveal a snickering Percy tucked under her arm and wielding two cups, positively brimming with frost and ice. “I won.” He declared proudly, which was rather impressive considering he was being carried like a child sized suitcase.

“It’s true,” Noah set him down. “I was no match.”

The boy smiled and skipped off to spoon out his cargo, dumping ice into each mug before casting them all a critical look.

He pointed to Dev first. “Dad takes sweet tea.” He said slowly. His finger drifted to the dark haired girl. “Noah has lemon water. And Ed... the uh, ginger stuff.”

Edward grinned. “Three for three.”

The younger boy beamed up at him and promptly dove into the pantry, pulling out a series of bottles and a little carton of some sickly sweet concoction for himself. Edward didn’t know how he managed to drink it without making himself sick.

Their toaster was older than the building they lived in—or at least that’s how it looked—riddled by Edison screws and a mild-to-moderate fire hazard if left unchecked.Edward successfully managed to not set anything on fire, which was more than Noah could say for herself.

They’d needed to swindle some new drapes from a pawn shop after that. Edward nearly busted a rib from laughing so hard and had gotten photographic proof before the evidence could be covered up.

He left the toast plain, of course. Butter and jams were slowly becoming a luxury item, and the marmalade they’d gotten as a gift from the woman across the road was currently drained, only about a spoonful left. They’d mutually agreed to save it for Percy the next time he refused medicine for a cold. For such a smart kid he was stubborn about the taste of things. He claimed it was the texture, though, so what did any of them know.

“Outta the way!” Dev hollered above the commotion of drinks and petty teasing. “Hot pan!”

It was a strong, almost suffocating smell, though that didn’t mean it was bad. It was like the breath one would take standing at the hull of a sea-crusted boat. Edward had only ever seen them from afar, but imagined a trip aboard would be pleasant enough.

Though, he could get seasick, logically, and it's like he’d have time for a joyride anyways.

“Ed,” Percy poked at his arm, “do you still have that apple pie?”

“Nah. We finished it up yesterday, remember?”

The boy pouted. “Aw… you’re good at making it.”

Edward watched the kid slide into his seat, frowning childishly at his oh so devastating loss. “Thanks, my friend showed me how to make it.”

It was his way of remembering. He didn’t have automail anymore, nor photographs from childhood, so Edward relied on memory and the whims of association.

Apple pie. It was a silly thing to attach to a living, breathing person, but Edward didn’t have a whole lot of options. It left him to practice with what his pocket change could buy and the slivers of information he could still remember.

Dev kindly inserted himself into the conversation. “Well, tell your friend thanks for us.”

If only he could.

The older man doled out their hodgepodge of a meal while they rest gave him a respectably wide path to carve along with the still sizzling griddle. “Don’t burn yourselves.” He warned.

“Glad to know you think so highly of us.” Edward replied.

“I’ll stop saying it when you stop burning you hand.”

“I can’t even feel with that hand!”

Dev laughed. Edward huffed and sat down, muttering into his mug indignantly.

They had enough to last a few more nights.

Which was good, because after a sale the prices always go up. Maybe Dev’s timing hadn’t been so coincidental. Just like it hadn’t been the last four times he stumbled upon a dropping value at the perfect time, but Edward wasn’t about to comment on it. He just cast a knowing look or two before listening to their youngest housemate excitedly tell them about a book he was blazing through. Something about the undead and magic.

* * *

_As thro' the street I wander._

It was only the afternoon. Dev and Edward had somehow cajoled their way into being let out early. The blond didn’t know exactly what Dev traded off, but for himself it was a weeks worth of breaks and one hell of a lie, spat right through his teeth and into the face of Mr. Renner.

They wanted to talk—make some kind of default plan for whenever the next raid happened so they wouldn’t be scrambling and freezing in the basement for twelve hours, lacking food and water. There was going to be a bunker dug down the road, but that wouldn’t be finished for another few weeks.

They needed something to fall back on and they didn’t want Percy to have to listen. He’d been frightened enough the first time and hearing them all anxiously talk would surely cause him to panic. They had to try to keep things normal.

For his sake if nothing else.

He was at a neighbours house being shown how to heat maple syrup just right so it would turn buttery and rich. Edward made a mental note to send little Marleen Fischer a proper thanks for this particular favour.

There were no shows today, nor rehearsals to peer down at, so the three of them sat in the threadbare theatre chairs. The springs were sharp against his back, but Edward knew they’d been plush and clean once. However long ago that might be, he hadn’t the slightest clue.

He and Dev were side by side, Noah sitting in the row in front of them, her legs folded under her and arms resting on the back of the chair to face them properly.

“We should move some bedding into the basement.” Noah suggested. “We won’t have to worry about any of us getting sick afterwards like last time.”

Edward winced at the mention; all four of them had gotten fierce chills after a night being buried in the cellar. “Some candles would be good. Or a lantern so the dark doesn’t make us crazy.” He thought back to the non-perishable items that lay in wait in their pantry. “We should bring down some canned goods too.” He added.

Dev chewed his lip, fingers tapping against the armrest. “Do you think I should get us a padlock?”

“No, we might lock ourselves in.”

“And there’s already that little bolt.”

“The door down there is flimsy at best.” Dev pointed out.

Edward crossed his legs, tucked up on his rust coloured chair. “Doesn’t matter if the door breaks down, it matters if the ceiling does.”

“And there’s not much we can do about that.” Noah finished gently.

Dev buried his face in his hands. “I know. _I know._ ”

“We’ll figure it out. All we have to do it hole up for another week or so and then that bunker will be dug out.”

“It could collapse too.” He murmured.

“You’re gonna drive yourself crazy thinking like that.” The blond told him.

Dev’s shoulder hunched. “I’m gonna drive myself crazy no matter what.”

Edward sighed and opened his mouth to offer some weak comfort, but a siren cut him off. Sirens rang through the building viciously, all three of their heads whipped around. Edward heard the rattling of engines and his heart seized up.

Noah shot to her feet with a breathless sound. “ _No_ …” She whirled, staring up and straining to hear what was going on. “No, it’s not even _night_.”

Even from inside, they could hear the alarmed scrambling of the townsfolk, dashing for their homes and shouting to each other to _take cover_. Edward stood, his hand latched onto Dev’s sleeve.

His mouth went horribly dry as he tugged the older man up. “Go to the cellar.” He said with all the force he could muster. “Keep the door unlatched.”

He yanked the man down the row and out into the aisle. The ground wasn’t shaking, and he could smell any smoke which was a good sign. With any luck this would be targeted around where the river opened up into the sea. That was the most industrial part of the city and Edward could only assume their main goal was to halt production of all the nasty, cruel molten bits of metal and gun cotton they were cobbling together. He didn’t care about the factories shutting down, in fact he welcomed the idea but, people were going to _die_.

Families would be destroyed and as selfish as it was, Edward didn’t want to sacrifice his impossible little home just yet. He would scratch and claw and hold onto it like a lifeline for as long as he could. But right now they were missing someone. So he made a break for the foyer.

“Ed!”

“Wait!”

They called after him, ignoring better judgment and leaving the stairs leading down to the basement lonely and unused. Edward heard Dev’s lumbering steps and his caught the younger by the wrist. “You two stay here, I’ll get him.” The older man said firmly.

“But—!“

“I’m not asking! Listen to me just this once.” He shouted. His voice shook a little but his eyes were glowing brightly with a myriad of emotions. Usually they would be draped across the cuffs of his shirts, but at times like this they always pooled.

Literally and figuratively.

Dev felt everything to its fullest degree, whether it be joy or rage.

He was calmly frustrated right now, something he’d only let bubble to the surface a few times. It was one of the few times Dev was intimidating, which was odd because one might think such a towering wall of a man would be a touch more frightening, but Dev was only ever smiling and ducking his head politely.

Now?

He glowered down at Edward, his hand gripping the younger sternly no matter how he tried to wrench away. Luckily, Edward was versed in dirty looks and stubbornness was streaked into his being like grey hairs or old scars. It was one of the few traits he hadn’t let die since he was thrown through to this side. He glared back. “Let go.” He demanded.

“ _No._ ”

“Dev, _let go_.”

The older man squeezed his arm a little tighter in a silent warning. Or perhaps it was a plea. Edward really needed to work through his nuances; the fact that Dev was typically so damn open and readable left him slacking and unprepared to pick apart the micro-movements of panic and caution. “This isn’t a risk you need to take.” Dev said.

“And you do?!”

“ _Yes._ ”

There was a dull roar from outside and Noah came up beside the two men, reaching to grab hold of Edward’s elbow lightly. He tried to pull away from her and Dev gave him a determined look.

“Just wait. _Please_.” Edward started. “You can’t go alone.”

His expression softened into something far more desperate and pleading. “Don’t make me lose two kids.” He turned away and marched towards the exit, full of resolve and terror. His shoulder were squared in an uncharacteristically tense way.

Noah lunged forward, her arms wrapping around Edward’s shoulder the moment Dev’s hand dropped away. The blond strained while Noah tried to lead him back. “He’ll be okay.”

_What if he’s not?_

_What if…_

_Can you really afford to lose someone else?_

Dev vanished out of the theatre and Noah didn’t loosen her hold in the slightest. “The planes are probably by the harbour.” She whispered. “They’ll be okay.”

Marleen only lived a few streets down. The whistling of metal birds was far enough off that none of the structures in this district would come tumbling down, right? It was old but it was strong and Edward corralled his paranoia into the back of his mind.

Now we be a great time to have that padlock Dev mentioned because already his fear was bashing against the walls he’d built around them.

Edward screwed his eyes shut. “Okay. Let’s go.”

* * *

They waited for an hour, ears pressed against the walls and struggling to catch anything other than an occasional rumble. Edward could almost convince himself it was just a thunderstorm. Guilt was a hell of a thing, making its way from the base of his feet all the way up to his neck, drowning him from the inside out. He sat with his knees curled up against his chest, Noah leaning on him like a backrest. They didn’t have the heart or energy to talk, but he’d taught her morse code months back.

She tapped his hand.

_They’re okay._

He wanted to believe her, but the years he’d lived of hurt and loss and betrayal wouldn’t let him. Edward had to remind himself to unclench his jaw constantly, and every now and again he’d slip from his spot, leaving Noah to stare out blindly into the cellar while he felt his way across the room and made sure they hadn’t accidentally locked the door.

He checked a dozen times before she caught his hand and clicked out the words again.

_They’re okay._

He sat back down heavily and waited.

Edward heard phantom footsteps, wilting against the wall because _god_ the anticipation was awful and he sincerely _could not do this again_. It was so exhausting. Hadn’t he given up enough?

He prayed to whatever deity had decided to use him for target practice, hoping they’d give him just this _one thing_. It felt irrational to think of a god he didn’t believe in, or be so horrified over a comparatively small risk. He told himself over and over that the planes were far enough away. They wouldn’t reach them over here.

But Edward couldn’t help but grow more and more anxious.

_They’re okay._

After an hour and forty-nine minutes—because he had nothing better to do than count—the door creaked open and he breathed such a harsh sigh of relief it made his lungs shudder.

* * *

_Mimì is fickle-hearted._

“Ed?”

It was late.

It was so fucking late and he wanted to sleep. He stared down at a mug of over-steeped tea, unable to raise his head.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d guess that Noah had some kind of sixth sense. She almost managed to trail after him when he was forced awake by his own stupid, traitorous dreams.

But Edward did know better. The walls were thin, they’d all learned to become light sleepers, and he was no stranger to sleep-talking. The words were mumbled and half slurred, but there were a few more common ones that could be recognized.

Names, mostly.

Noah made her way into their rickety, age-dusted kitchen. It was connected to their rather pathetic excuse for a living room by a doorless frame.

It was a good spot in the attic to be when Edward had nightmares. He could put on lights, or at the very least set a candle on the table without the glow alerting anyone else. She slid into a seat across from him, her hands fidgeting a little before she smoothed them against her too-large sleepwear. They were draped around her generously, folded at the crooks of her elbows and the pant legs rolled up so she wouldn’t trip.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” She asked.

Edward tipped his mug, letting the tea spin in its container. He took a tentative sip. It was lukewarm at this point, but still calming. “Who was I going on about this time?”

Most often, it was Al or Winry. Sometimes his mother or his friends in the military. Once it had been Teacher and he’d taken a long walk in the darkness just to rid himself of the smell of blood. Not that it had been real at all, it was just the manic conjuring’s of his own mind. It had still clung to his nose and throat at the time.

“It was Hawkeye…?” She gave him an unsure look.

“Oh.”

Noah leaned her forearms against the table, her eyes skirting around the dimly lit space. The gentle firelight accented the spots that needed dusting, flashing against the cornstalks, herbs, and flowers that hung from one wall, tied by the roots and left to dry. The air in here always tasted like celery seed and bay leaves.

“You’ll make yourself sick off that.” She said after a while.

Noah stood and made for the kettle, swiftly picking up his cooling mug, rinsing it out, and waiting for him to speak. This was how it tended to be when they found themselves in the kitchen, trapped in the intervals between morning and sunset.

She would diligently wait for him to talk and it the everything came pouring out in waves, all the mindlessly numbing regret and memories. Sometimes his mouth would stay shut and Noah instead found ways to take his mind off things in the form of card games and checkers.

Edward wondered if she would ever know just how cripplingly, immensely grateful he was for her patience.

It was immeasurable. He should tell her one of these days—that he would’ve lost himself ages ago if she wasn’t so damn _good_ —and properly apologize for becoming a wreck every now and again. She’d probably smack his arm and tell him there was nothing to apologize for. She’d list off all the times he’d returned the favour and insist that he was being stupid for thinking he needed to say sorry.

Edward exhaled. “She was a friend. Helped to look after me for a good few years.”

She replaced his tea, the taste crisp and sweet, most likely having honey spooned into it with considerable enthusiasm. Noah sipped on her own drink and quietly let him list of facts about First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye and slowly admit that he missed her. He smiled to himself, remembering the loyal, gentle, _painfully_ honest woman who’d shown him more empathy than he ever expected someone in the military to.

“She had a dog too.” He made a gesture. “Little black and white thing that she brought into the office once or twice a month and never left her side.”

Noah’s head tilted a little, resting in her palms. “Sweet of her.”

“Yeah. She was… like that.”

“What else?”

He continued. Edward had no idea how much of what he said was believed, but Noah never let on to anything other than a wealth of compassion. He kept the fantastical and horrific aspects of his home to a minimum, dancing around alchemy like it was a loaded gun.

He told her about the things that mattered though. The people who he’d been around, the ones who’d annoyed the hell out of him and lifted him up when he fell down. She’d heard him babble on about his brother at least a dozen times now. Edward would never forget her reaction when he first told her…

Noah had started to cry.

Not out of any single emotion in particular, just a woven together tangle of feelings that spiralled. It had snapped him out of the haze of sleep and he rushed forward frantically. She had smiled as though she didn’t even realize there were tears on her cheeks. “I just never thought you’d tell me about him.” She laughed.

Edward thought about that more than he ought to. Her voice brought him out of the strangely comforting little slice recollection. “What was her favourite colour?”

“Uh, green I think.” Edward’s eyebrows raised a little.

“Hum. And you said she was a good shot?”

“The best.”

Noah sat back with a thoughtful hum. “I think I’d like her.” She declared confidently.

He let out a puff of laughter, almost blowing the steaming water from his cup. Edward traced the rim with a flesh finger, absently letting the past swallow him up into a fog. It wasn’t pleasant, but it wasn’t all that bad either. Just _vaguely_ cold and familiar.

“Hey…” Noah nudged his leg under the table. “You know you’re allowed to miss them.”

Edward nodded.

* * *

_In a coupé?_

“What about…” Percy looked around the street frantically. “That!” He pointed to an oddly shaped mailbox.

Edward helped the kid jump over a puddle, his feet skimming the surface precariously as he balanced. It had come down hard the night before, shaking the windows until Edward had needed to crank up their fan to drown out the creaks. The fizzling of white noise only provided a modicum of sleep before lightening thrashed across the rooftops like the arc of a bullet, streaked in white and trailed by pure electricity. The flash made him flinch awake hard enough to knock his head against the wall.

Edward glanced to the mailbox, then back down to the boy staring at him intently. “Well, it depends.” He held up his free hand to count off the materials. “If it’s _carbon_ steel, then it’d be all iron and carbon, but if it’s an alloy, then it has nickel in it.”

Percy nodded and repeated the words to himself. He’d have them memorized in two days time, a week at maximum.

“Do you know what everything is made of?” The boy asked.

Edward chuckled, sidestepping a stream of water that sprinted towards a sewer drain. “Nah, my head would explode.”

Percy frowned. He’d made it his mission through the day to find something Edward couldn’t list off the composition of, the only real problem was that there wasn’t a lot of variation in their bleak cityscape. It was ninety percent concrete and wood, spliced together with steel bolts and iron paneling. Half of what Percy asked about was the same as the last.

If there were still flowers around town, he could've gotten a more interesting answer, but they’d died out a while back. It was disheartening to see the city be bled of colour and life, day by day leeched further into black and white.

Weeks felt increasingly hazy like the novelty films that would sometimes play at the theatre, switching between locations in a blink and watching peoples mouths move without any sound. Those films were old, made of nitrate and more flammable than straight gasoline. They never played for long, thankfully.

“Can you tell me about the circles?” Percy inquired.

Edward let the kid take spinning steps, holding the artificial hand above his head like a little red ballet dancer. There was no one around to send admonishing glares, nor police to demand Percy act proper, so Edward let the boy have his fun. This way he wouldn’t be bouncing off the walls by the time they got back to those big, dumb, spectacularly overzealous archways.

“Didn’t I tell you about them already?”

“Yeah but—“ His pace slowed, kicking at the ground childishly. “—I think it’s cool.” He turned his big pleading eyes up to Edward and _oh for fucks sake_.

It wasn’t fair that the kid could just whip out that expression whenever it suited him. It wasn’t fair that Edward crumbled each time and felt his heart go soft. The sticky, pulsing, _human_ part of him that couldn't help but feel warm at the sight, even caught in the throes of smog and overcast skies.

“It circulates the energy,” He started.

Percy hummed to himself and listened as Edward prattled on about how the transmutation circle would work, though only in theory of course. Because it would never really _work_ here unless he was severely missing something each time he’d made an attempt. Alchemy was reduced to a pseudo-science, only practiced in small communities and by those with one foot in the occult.

The air just… _felt_ different. It didn’t have the same energy or vibrant buzz to it, so his occasion dip back into the familiar practice was exclusive to discussing the ideas behind it with Percy as his only patron.

The boy tip-toed along the curb, his free arm spread out. “So if I want the rocks to go out of the circle, the triangle has to go past the edges?”

“Vector.” Edward corrected. “But yeah, pretty much.”

Percy looked up to him curiously. “How do you figure out all the stuff that’s in whatever you’re changing? Uh…. transmuting?”

The blond grinned. “You study. _A lot._ ” He paused at a crosswalk, glancing to be sure no oncoming motorist would bowl them over before hopping down from the curb. Percy threaded his tiny hand around three of Edward’s fingers.

“Sounds hard.” He said. The boy almost tripped over a loose stone, his stance slipping along the water-slicked road. Edward kept him from keeling right over, catching his shoulders calmly. He pretended like it didn’t even happen as the kid’s ears turned pink and his face twisted up in embarrassment.

“It is, but I think it’s worth it.” Edward replied. The parallel sidewalk sloped downwards, a dreary block splayed out against the grey sky. It was hard to tell where the sun was.

Percy regained his boldness, the damaged to his dignity fading rapidly to the whims of childhood shamelessness. “You were probably the best!” He announced to their audience of none.

Edward bit back a tired sigh. In the grand scheme of thing, its was tiny and meaningless, but the trilling of alchemy and its power was something he missed. Even though it had been years, he still occasionally found himself moving to clap his hands together or tracing out some of the more basic arrays he’d figured out with Al, years and years ago.

“I’ll be an alchemist too.” Percy told him.

“I bet you’d be great at it.”

* * *

_Firewood!_

There was a man doing rounds, checking in on anyone who’d gotten banged up on the trip down into their crowded safe room that wasn’t all that safe. He held a little flashlight, carried a box of first aid equipment and handed out earplugs for the youngest children. They all accepted with shaking hands and tears on their chins.

Edward was settled against a corner near the very back of the bunker, his friends huddled around him. His head was pounding. There was still blood leaking down from his ear and the sounds were a bit muffled. He wiped it away with the back of his sleeve where it started to grow into a wide stain. That was fine.

That shirt was done for anyways, already filled with blemishes and holes. The dirt and ashes alone were enough to justify tossing it out. Edward kept his head ducked down between his knees, breathing carefully to try and quell the nausea surging at the back of his throat. The spinning sensation of vertigo and a constant ring in his ear made it worse by miles.

Dev touched his shoulder to get his attention.

Edward turned to find the man in front of them, kneeling down to eye level. “May I take a look at you?” He asked, speaking around an accent like there was a string keeping his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Edward blinked before the words registered and he nodded.

The man brought out his little light and gently placed his thumb on the blond’s cheek, keeping his eye from jerking shut when he flashed the torch for a moment. It caused a small explosion of spots to swell to life, colouring his vision white and yellow. The man pulled away with a quiet apology.

Edward squeezed his eyes shut when his stomach lurched once again. He gulped back the taste of acid and wiped away a tear that had slipped out without permission among the burning feeling across his retina. The man turned his head to the side to get a better look at his ear. “It’s ruptured.” He said flatly. Something cool poked at his skin. Edward jumped at the sudden contact, but the medic paid him no mind. “How much can you hear?”

“A little, I guess. It feels plugged.”

The man nodded, rocking back on his heels. He was clinical and obtuse in every way, detaching himself from the situation. “It shouldn’t be permanent, but be careful. It’s easier to get infected now, so don’t go jumping into the harbour.

Edward huffed out a laugh. “Right, I’ll keep that in mind.”

The man checked the gash on his temple and declared that it was only a scrape, no need to worry for fractures. “Head wounds tend to bleed a lot. Be sure to keep it covered.” The man collected his things, leaving the younger with a small roll of gauze for future use.

He slung his case over his shoulder and was about to step away, but hesitated. Edward was already going back to his curled up position, ready to keep his fingers planted at the bridge of his nose to ward off all the blaring pains of an oncoming migraine.

“Hey.” Edward looked up blearily. The man gave him a smile. “Chin up. It’s almost morning.”

* * *

It was a mess. Everything was a mess.

He couldn’t even move.

_It was a fucking mess._

Edward stood, barely out of the bunker and washed in the first proper sunrise he’d seen in weeks, the light spat over a field of rubble and destruction.

It had taken four people to pry the door open. Wood paneling had fallen over the entrance, caught on the corner of nearby set of steps. When they’d finally managed to get the damn thing open, it revealed a gruesome display of _nothing_.

There was dust coating the streets, blanketed like the final coat of varnish on a tabletop, the persistent stuff already having climbed up his sleeves and spun into his hair. Instead of making the space shine, it sucked what remained dry. There were shingles smattered across the ground, roofs caved in and doorways busted open. He couldn’t find a single window that wasn’t blown in. The glass threw pretty little reflections all around the debris.

It was almost like stars.

Edward could hardly recognize the area and his head felt a little light. He swallowed and forced his feet to move, stumbling carefully over the scattered stone and wooden beams. The brickwork of older buildings was carved to husks, their towers corroded into to ruins from the top down.

“Goldie?” A voice called out.

Edward continued to stare out over the pathways that had been clean the night before. There was a pounding behind his eyes. The medic said he’d gotten a mild concussion, quickly explaining that he’d probably be feeling off balanced from the hearing loss as well. The feeling of wanting to throw up subsided, but the aching in his skull only grew worse. The sunrise burned at his eyes, but it was too stunning and awful to look away.

He staggered back, sitting down on the ground hard. He heard Dev’s surprised gasp as he rushed to make sure the younger hadn’t just collapsed. “I’m okay.” He assured, head cradled in his hands. “They really did a number this time.”

Dev came up beside him, somehow his steps quiet and graceful in the piles of cracked stone.“No kidding.” His eyes swept around the space wearily. “Can I join you?”

Edward nodded.

He sat down, mindful of the stray rocks and upturned cobblestone. It could’ve been a painting, covered with a pink and orange blush like watercolours but scribbled and ruined by slashes of ink. Streetlamp were strewn out, having been felled all across the city, some crashing through the roofs of adjacent buildings, if they still had any at all, some laid flat across the road. They swooned from their foundations too hard and snapped, bending at the middle and leaving a hissing sound of the metal slowly shifting against the concrete. It almost would have been irritating if not for the fact that Edward’s eyes were still vibrating like the skin of a drum, unable to stop and blindingly soft.

“Where’re the troublemakers?” Edward asked.

Dev smiled weakly. “Percy is still asleep.”

“Ah,” He mused, “still passed out all over Noah?” He started to count the number of awnings that had been torn down and tangled. They flapped with the breeze as it stirred up a lungful of dust and soot. Edward looked over to his friend and found him to be coloured grey. It was like he’d taken a swan dive into a dead fire pit and come out with ashes up to the ears.

“Spot on. I don’t think she minds though.”

The younger counted to eight, the papery fabric fluttering here and there before the brightness started to work down into his stomach and make it twist. He let his eyes fall shut and felt increasingly numb. “ _Please_. A night long cuddle? She’s probably thrilled.”

It was a weak attempt at a joke, but it managed to pull an amused sound out of Dev so Edward chalked it up as a win.

They sat in silence for a long while, the sun hauling itself up into the sky and being swallowed by clouds of smoke. The shadows it cast grew shorter, flared to less ridiculous lengths and it only made the damage done to the city seem worse. His shoulders started to furl up, tensed and strained.

His throat felt tight and Edward wasn’t entirely sure if it was due to all the floating particles of mortar in the air or if this was really just hitting him for the first time. The gravity of all the fallen bricks was sudden wringing his neck and his lungs sputtered, grasping for an inhale.

So much was gone.

Was the theatre gone too?

Where would they go?

It’s not like rent was an easy thing around here, even splitting it three ways. He’d salvaged their pathetic little drawstring bag of savings, but that would only cover them for a few months at best, and even that was being charitable. If they skipped meals and shared a room they _might_ be able to last that long. Edward screwed his eyes shut and wanted to curse out the stupid finality of fire.

But…

But it could be worse.

At least they were alive, even if shaken and bruised. As least they were sane and at least he had _them_. That was more than he needed, honestly.

“Hey, Ed?” Dev placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Let’s go home.”

* * *

_Sleeping? Just resting._

Noah was leaving tomorrow and Edward couldn’t sleep.

The clock told him it was half past two and he slammed his head beneath his pillow with a groan. The sheets rustled around him, twisted into disarray and becoming a bit of an annoyance. Time march on ruthlessly and his eyes were heavy, but his mind wouldn’t let him rest.

It robbed him of that privilege in a cruel retribution and reminded him that he was now acutely aware of what blood looked like when soaking into grass.

He had never known it would be so dark.

Edward sat up and kicked off the sheets with a growl. The clock ticked obnoxiously and he glared at it. “What?” He demanded, as though it would, one of these days, talk back.

 _Hah._ That’s when he’ll know that he’s finally lost it, though he couldn’t deny these past few months had him slipping.

The wire that connected his heart to the rest of him was fraying, thread by thread, and with all the grief the useless little organ caused him, Edward was tempted to make one last snip and let it all fall away. It would be so much easier, but it wouldn’t be fair to do.

She hadn’t even left and it had started to writhe and thump. There was no way to stop a heartbreak, but that would’t stop him from trying.

Edward swung his leg over the edge of the bed and slid his heel along the ground until it bumped into something cool and stiff. He was so practiced with taking off and putting back the prosthetics that he didn’t bother with a light, going through the easy motions of flipping a few latches and waiting to feel the distinct click of machinery being popped into place.

The motions were still limited, but it was better than the first few weeks, years back when he was first getting used to it and nearly breaking his wrist on a cheap crutch with this sweet little habit of leaving him with splinters. Edward flexed the limb experimentally before standing up and hobbling over to where his arm sat.

It had a small bloom of flowers that reached across the shoulder, vines trailing down towards the elbow joint, curtesy of Noah, of course.

It wasn’t finished.

It never _would_ be finished.

Before he could lay a hand on the thing, his door creaked up.

He was meet with big brown eyes and a tangle of dark hair.

Noah froze in the doorway with an impish look of bewilderment. Edward felt the same.

“You’re up.” He said dumbly.

“So are you.” She replied, still waiting at the threshold. Her feet shuffled back sheepishly and she tugged at her hair.

“Can I come in?”

Edward squinted at her, an eyebrow raising. “Yeah, of course.”

Without preamble she padded inside, the door swinging closed and she collapsed onto his bed almost comically. Edward suppressed a snicker, his eyebrows tilting upwards. He made his way over to perch on the edge of the thin little mattress, springs hitching and crying in discontent. “What’s going on with you?”

“Oh, you know. This and that.” Her voice was watery, clouded by the blanket that her face was buried in. Edward poked her arm and she brushed away his touch. “I just can’t sleep.”

“Hah. I know how that feels.” He said with all the cynicism of a new age scholar.

She mumbled something unintelligible and pillowed her arms under her face. “My train is tomorrow.” She informed dully.

Edward gazed down at her, everything from her clothes to her expression rumpled and unkempt. “It is.” He agreed. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Cold.”

He frowned at that. “Do you want a blanket?”

“No.”

Edward sighed, casting her a disarmingly gentle look. Her hands picked at the linen sheets, tugging a string loose and wrapping it slowly around her little finger. She glanced up to him hopefully and his chest let out a mighty breath.

Edward shook his head, smiling and exasperated. “Shove over, you big sap.”

Noah shot him a thankful look, head lolling to one side in an innocent way like she didn’t know _exactly_ what she was doing. Spoken language was clearly overrated when you could simply have someone read you like a book at every twist and turn.

A picture’s worth a thousand words? Well, a gesture must be worth a million.

He carelessly flopped down next to Noah, still missing his arm and covered head to toe in layers of sweaters. Noah was no different, with the double hems of her sleepwear serving like a dead giveaway. Attics tended to be poorly insulated, so they’d gotten used to being ridiculously bundled up in the evening.

Actually, that wasn't quite right.

It wasn’t _untrue,_ per-say, but Dev had taken up knitting for some reason and they all took to the wooly stretches of cloth like ducks to water.

Noah tucked herself against his side, an arm laid across his middle. Edward blew his hair from his eyes with a puff and sunk down into the bed, shifting a little so that she could use his shoulder as a cushion.

She had lied.

She wasn’t cold.

Most of the time when this happened, Edward would end up gently pulling away because touch had only ever been violent for him. It was associated with bruises and split lips, not platonic affection and stillness. Touch, he’d always thought, was rapid, alarming movement. It was a swinging fist or knee to the stomach.

Noah was motionless save for the steady rising and fall of her chest and the occasional murmur of a half formed joke.

This was one of the moments where he was able to battle back his expectations of some physical threat and drink in the peace of it all while it lasted.Edward felt Noah’s forehead pressed into his collar, humming out a ragged, relived sigh. He didn’t move from where he was. It was comfortable.

Familiar, to a certain degree. He soaked in the feeling of warmth that sprouted up from his chest and desperately wished she wasn’t going to be gone in a matter of hours.

Hadn’t he lost enough friends?

He tried to convince himself that this was for the best, she’d be far safer, after all. But selfishly he was still _hurting_.

His mouth felt dry and his heart continued its rabid tirade, tearing him down to a husk and making the frayed wire bleed endlessly. It would break one day, but not just yet.

“You up still?” She whispered.

“Yeah.” He said back, smiling thinly to himself. “You?”

He felt her breathe out a little chuckle. It might as well have been a knife through his battered little wire.

Eventually, they fell asleep while he continued to bleed.

* * *

_Hallo! You soldiers! Admit us!_

Edward dropped everything and ran. He grabbed Percy around the middle and dashed to Noah’s old room where there sat a hollow space behind a section of the plaster.

Someone pounded on their door again.

“Just a moment!” Dev called out, sending an urgent look to the blond. Percy’s hands fisted into the back of his shirt, clinging to him stalwartly as Edward pulled back the little wooden board laid up against the wall, no wider or taller than a window and crawled through. It was suffocatingly tight and musty, but he hurried to fix the panel back in place as their front door clicked open and he heard Dev mask anxiety with friendliness.

“Oh, um. Hello, officer.” He tried to sound cordial. Edward set Percy down and barred his arm across the boy’s chest, pressing them both back into the skeletal, wooden beams that held the space together. A lone nail dug into the soft spot just below his shoulder blades, but he could hardly feel it through all the panic. He would just have to hope any rust or dirt that managed to split the skin wouldn’t leave him with tetanus.

“Deputy commissioner.” A voice corrected.

Edward felt dizzy, the voice knocking him back and feeling suffocating like a noose. He felt a careful tugging on his shirt. “Ed? What’s going on?” Percy was hard to see, but the shining in his eyes spelled _terror_.

“We have to be quiet.” He couldn’t even find the energy to lie about any of this like he usually did. Percy was too young to understand so much of what was happening but he wanted to understand. He tried until he was blue in the face and Ed or someone else would break it down into small, palatable little pieces that didn’t hurt quite so much to swallow.

He couldn't do that now. Not with his heart stuck in his throat.

“Why?” The boy pleaded quietly. “What’s happening? Who’s at the door—“

“Percy.” Edward grabbed the child by his shoulders. “I know you’re scared but we need to be quiet. Just for a few minutes. Can you do that?”

“I-I don’t…” He stammered. Edward was worried that the kid was going to burst into tears if he couldn’t find a way to calm him down. The older softly took Percy by the hand and gave it a tight squeeze.

“I won’t leave.” He assured. “I’ll be right here the whole time, we just have to stay put. If you get scared, squeeze my hand, okay?”

Percy’s breathing was too fast and his voice sounded thick with emotion. “Okay… I trust you.”

The floorboards creaked and groaned under an unfamiliar weight with an all too familiar voice. “Do you live here alone?” Hugh—the _Deputy_ asked.

“Yes, I do.”

“Awfully big place for one person.” He commented absently.

Dev’s tone slipped and slid around, moving from calm to unsure and back again. “My flatmates moved out.”

“Yes, those flatmates.” He drawled. “Am I correct in assuming one of them was Edward Elric?”

“That’s right, sir. He left a few weeks back.” The lie fell into the open air easily. Percy gripped his hand tightly.

“And you don’t know _where_ the left to?”

“No, I haven’t the slightest clue.” Their steps pattered aimlessly. “Sir.” Dev tacked on.

The Deputy’s tone grew increasingly grave. “You’re positive?”

“Absolutely certain. He…” Dev pause, his voice wavering a little. “He just walked out one morning. Didn’t say a word.”

Edward winced at that, biting his lip because it sounded just a little _too_ similar to his own memories of… _that doesn't matter right now_. He could feel the little redhead’s nails digging into his skin, his chest moving in quick inhales.

“I was here to check in on his _progress_.” The Deputy had to be sneering. There was no way he could keep his face clear when he spat the word. “I had a meeting with him not long ago. Mighty productive. We had a nice talk.”

Edward pried Percy’s fingers off and clamped his hands over the boy’s ears, his own eyes screwed shut. The kid squirmed and shook, but his mouth was sealed.

“A talk.” Dev repeated.

“Yes.” The cruel tone didn’t match the voice. It didn’t match the _face_. It made his stomach churn and flip in a cycle of sickness. “There was a little, ah, _altercation_ but I believe it was worthwhile.”

Altercation.

A fucking _altercation_.

He sunk his teeth into the soft part of his teeth and let the iron flavoured liquid pool around his mouth. Percy looked up to him frantically. Edward swallowed back the blood and gave him a confident nod. He nodded back and mouthed the words again.

 _I trust you_.

* * *

They stayed in there a full fifteen minutes after Dev ushered the Deputy out the door and jerked the lock into place. Percy cried into a quilt, quivering and unable to speak through his hiccups. He sobbed himself into a fitful sleep and Dev looked Edward in the eyes.

“Ed.” He breathed. “We gotta leave.”

* * *

_To the home that she left._

Edward stepped off the boat and almost toppled over. Whether it was from days of being swayed side to side by the fickle currents of the ocean, or because he was running on empty and still with one foot in the grave thanks to ship fever, he didn’t know.

He was well enough that he could have food, but his skin was still warm to the touch and even a breeze made him shiver violently.

The docks were busy, but dull. No one spoke to one another, they just tossed lines and directed the newcomers in their thinning crowds. That included Edward, apparently.

He was dragged along with the rest of the passengers, shown off the docks and into a modest little waterfront setup. He slowed as the roads split out, widening and narrowing into alleyways and main passages. A few people bumped into him, whispering brief apologies before they rushed onwards.

They had somewhere to be.

Edward didn’t.

So he wandered for a little, turning down any road that looked vaguely inviting and trying to figure out what time of day it was. There were a bright set of clouds hanging over the sky, lighting everything up but with no distinct direction to indicate where it came from. As he drifted from place to place, he found himself reaching up to the back of his head, tugging his fingers through the jagged strings and feeling intensely lonely.

The little cuts branding his neck were mostly healed, by some miracle not getting infected over the journey to Sweden, but still sore. The scarring pulled at his skin every time he turned his head, and stung when his hand brushed up against them.

There was something morbidly hypnotic about the shorn off bits of hair that hung down along his jaw. They felt clean and dirty at the same time.

A few people did double takes, but most left him be after a single glance. It was polite of them.

The sky shifted from white to orange, then bright pink, spreading over the horizon in a hard blush.

It was soon revealed to be the evening, as the streeted grew shaded by long shadows, derived from any pebble or leaf that was out of place and it was then that Edward conveniently, terribly, remembered that he was literally fresh off a boat and with exactly no money.

“Pardon me?” Someone tapped his shoulder.

Edward jumped and spun around to find an older woman, her grey hair bundled into a twist behind her head and wrinkles framing her face with an air of wisdom. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” She ducked her head for a moment.

“No, no. It’s fine. That was on me, really.”

She looked up to him with a cautious smile. “Are you lost?” She asked him.

Was he?

He felt lost.

“Yeah.” Edward admitted after a moment. She nodded thoughtfully.

“I know that some boats landed here today.” The woman continued. “Were you from somewhere else?”

“I was.”

“Ah.” Her eyes were shaper than her appearance let on, scanning him up and down a few times before there came a stubborn set to her shoulder, even hunched over and frail-looking. “Do you have anywhere to stay the night?”

Edward took a step back because a siren had already started to go off in his mind. His thoughts began to race without bothering to check the facts, taking off with just the ambiguous, distant threat that _somehow_ this was a trap.

The woman raised a hand in surrender, her eyes flickering and clearly noting the odd and sudden switch in demeanour. “You’re free to decline, but my daughter and I run a hotel. It’s not the most perfect of places, but we have plenty who are new to this city there just like you.”

Edward tensed. “I don’t have any money.”

She waved dismissively. “Nonsense. If you can hold a broom or fold a towel, you’ll have already paid us back.”

He blinked at her, The woman smiled warmly. “I’d understand if you’d rather not. Just thought I’d offer before you fell asleep under a bridge.”

“That’s kind of you.”

“Not kind.” She held up a hand. “ _Right_. It’s simply _right_.”

He nodded slowly. She tilted from side to side, casting him a sidelong glance as she turned in a lazy circle and started in a brisk pace down the street.

Edward exhaled.

He followed her.

**Author's Note:**

> So this was all the stuff from chapter four that I had to cut... yeah, there was a lot.  
> These are technically in order so I hope it's not too confusing about which scenes fall where on the timeline.  
> Also I'm sliding in at the last minute for FMA day!  
> Anyways, uh, hope this is enjoyed!  
> Pop on over to my [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/liathgray) for some clownery.


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